God brought his daughter home

Kristen was sick yesterday.  Feverish and sneezy and lethargic and grumpy.  She insisted she wasn't sick and wouldn't let me give her medicine.  I stayed home with her last night while Derek took the other kids to the church Christmas party.  As soon as they all walked out the door, Kristen said she wanted to go to bed.  I tucked her in and said goodnight, then I wondered what to do with myself for a couple hours while the little miss slept off her fever and the rest of the gang were at the church.  I sat down and decided to watch Elf.  I like watching something funny before bed.

About 15 minutes into the movie, Derek called me.  He said, "I don't know if you've heard, but they announced tonight that Marie (name has been changed) passed away this afternoon."  Marie was a woman in my ward who found out in late June/early July she had a tumor.  She had surgeries, went through treatments. But in mid-November we found out she'd stopped responding to the treatments and they were only treating her for the pain as the cancer took it's toll on her from the inside.  I do believe in miracles, and I have often prayed over the past several months that one might happen for her family.  But I had a feeling in my gut, from the beginning, that this was something she wouldn't survive. Yet we prayed.

Marie was a woman that left everyone in awe.  My other friends and I frequently wondered, "How does she do it?"  She's the mother of nine children, all home-schooled.  She was an accomplished pianist and taught lessons out of her home.  She taught Alayna how to play up until she fell ill to the cancer this summer. When I was a new Primary president in 2009, Marie was the music leader.  I was always amazed at her command of the music and her influence over the children.  Not very long later she was released as the Primary music leader and called to be the Relief Society president.  I missed working with her each week in Primary, but I still got to enjoy her positive influence as we were both auxiliary presidents together in the ward council.   When Kristen was a new little baby in 2010, Marie and I often spent time together rocking our babies in the mother's room.  During Alayna's piano lessons, I sometimes sat in Marie's living room while my other children played with her youngest children.  Isaac loved bringing his Pokemon binder to trade cards with Marie's boys. It was in Marie's living room that I received strong, personal impressions about writing while I flipped through a copy of President Monson's biography, which had been sitting on the end table. In all things Marie did, she was an example of stalwart righteousness and love for those around her.  

Because Kristen was sick and feverish yesterday, the Saturday plans I had made got pushed aside so I could stay home and coddle her and give her some mommy TLC.  We watched "Scrooge," a musical rendition of "A Christmas Carol," my all-time favorite Christmas movie.  It always moves me.  I watched that movie with my mom for so many Christmases, I can't help but get a little overwhelmed with memories of home and holidays when I watch it.  But at the end of the movie I began openly weeping.  I was confused by the rush of emotion, and my kids were a bit bewildered by my loss of composure.  I told Alayna I was feeling a little homesick, that's all.  But even as I said it, I wasn't really certain why I had become suddenly emotional.  But after Derek called during the party and told me about Marie's passing, I believe that some part of my soul knew her spirit had finally left this earth.

I loved Marie so much.  Everyone did.  She will be missed, but I have faith in the Lord's plan for me, for her, for her family.  We don't know why, but peace comes from this faith of the Savior's love for each of us, from knowledge of the Plan of Salvation made possible through the Atonement.